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Blanc+K




I’m wasting my life.


ladymiseryy:

losersunite:

Hand in mine, into your icy blues And then I’d say to you we could take to the highway With this trunk of ammunition too I’d end my days with you in a hail of bullets

I want this tattooed

ladymiseryy:

losersunite:

Hand in mine, into your icy blues
And then I’d say to you we could take to the highway
With this trunk of ammunition too
I’d end my days with you in a hail of bullets

I want this tattooed

(Source: hometownsarehell)


5,127 notes | Reblog | 1 year ago

Waste away

It’s easier to let in the gloom,

the somberness of Monday morning

etched into empty coffee mugs

stains on white porcelain, yellow teeth

gnash and gnaw.

hunger is my chronic illness

Fill in the muddled canvas

grotesque boons of last night’s fury

paint and pull the dark corners

until the room is nothing but

shadows and sickness, blood

wells and welts skin.

"Don’t stay"

She never listens,

just hides away.
.


1 note | Reblog | 1 year ago
knttygrrl:

AW

knttygrrl:

AW

(Source: smogartist)


16,657 notes | Reblog | 1 year ago
thelovenotebook:

LOVE AND EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN ❤

I’d rather waste everyday with you

thelovenotebook:

LOVE AND EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN ❤

I’d rather waste everyday with you


9,700 notes | Reblog | 1 year ago

Mind’s eye

Feathery flighty eyelashes frame the corners of my mind

Wide apart, softly blinking, opening like a flower in July  

Revealing the essence of my smile, the sweetness of hope

Like honey, summer thunder, stickier than humid nights

Your eyes loosen my thoughts, like a strong stout draught

Stripping secrets, warming fingers, keeping my skin clean

The way they delve so deep into my soul, I no longer feel

Alone.


2 notes | Reblog | 1 year ago

(Source: indestructible-manifestations)


528 notes | Reblog | 1 year ago

(Source: morechanelplease)


494 notes | Reblog | 1 year ago

(Source: mangafascination)


8,516 notes | Reblog | 1 year ago

10 notes | Reblog | 1 year ago

Ten roses, Three moments, One giver of gifts

I keep roses pressed between pages, a reminder of silkiness the feel of freshly washed chestnut hair between my fingers, and their pink petals a sweetness, like strawberry preserve that stains porcelain cheek bones during summer. I keep roses dried on my walls, crinkly and tender, like butterfly wings or brown eyelashes fluttering against my lips, faded into a deep maroon, the colour of my sheets that he holds me close in during sunset and sunrise, the colour of an impregnable fortress.
I keep one besides my curly head, tinged deep dedication, a persistent crimson hue, the first flower brought without need or cause, adorning the mantle of my heart with summer smiles and winter whispers. I keep roses alight on my breast, cherishing their giver who pulls on my heart strings like a musician a harp, always he plays me a sweet simple tune.


1 note | Reblog | 1 year ago

I wish I was pretty.


1 note | Reblog | 1 year ago

18,962 notes | Reblog | 1 year ago

Our fingers intertwine     

         Like puzzle pieces, your hand fits perfectly in mine.


2 notes | Reblog | 1 year ago

(Source: thatsweetsoundof-humility)


237,259 notes | Reblog | 1 year ago
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